


Sway With Me

by LunarK9



Category: Darkiplier - Character - Fandom, Luna - Character (Original), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Action, Adventure, Anti - Freeform, Antisepticeye Inspiration, Anxiety, Ballroom Dancing, Based on realistic experiences by author, Big Break-Up, Character Growth, Damien - Freeform, Dancing, Darkiplier Inspiration, Dealing With Trauma, Depression, F/M, Love, Original Fiction, PTSD, Post-Break Up, Romance, Self-Growth, Sexual Tension, Supernatural - Freeform, antisepticeye, dealing with mental illness, just a nice read, lots of detail, sensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarK9/pseuds/LunarK9
Summary: Luna decides to treat herself to a night out. She sits alone at a table, reminiscing, as a handsome stranger approaches her.
Relationships: Aiden/Luna, Damien/Luna, Dean/Luna (exes), Moira/Luna (friendship)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey loves! The characters I've made for this work are based off of myself and the characters Damien and Darkiplier from Markiplier's channel. Some of the characters are original and the story line will (hopefully) be original. I take a lot of inspiration for writing these from a lot of my various interests in reality.  
> There will be topics of anxiety and depression throughout this collection from my point of view.  
> I hope you all enjoy! Much love to ya!

I sat at the dining table, whisky and soda in hand. I took another sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol run down my throat, savoring the carbonation. Tears fell softly down my face as the anxiety and sadness washed over me. 'How did I get here? What happened to me to feel so empty inside?'  
Casting aside the thought, I took a gulp of my drink. I made sure to hold the glass next to my face, so that the people dining around me would not notice my tears. This idea of taking myself out for a nice evening dinner was stupid.

Earlier in the day, I had taken myself shopping and treated myself to a beautiful black dress and some heels. The dress was a cap sleeve dress, scooping gently at the chest revealing just enough cleavage to deem it classy. The underlying layer of satin was form fitting but left enough room to be comfortable to walk in. The best part (in my opinion) was that I didn't need a bra to wear underneath, as the fabric was tight enough around my breasts for support. Pure laziness at its best. The first and second layer reached the floor, the top layer being sheer. At the front of the shoulders were two sets of cubic zirconia set in four separate diamond shapes, placed together to create a larger diamond.   
After spending an hour putting together my hair and makeup, it had taken some extra effort to put the dress on. And walking in heels was a joke. Even thinking about it presently made me snort.

The low self-confidence still clings, no matter what I wear or put on my face. I thought I was averagely attractive at best, and a broken mess at worst. Objectively, I had a lovely face: round with medium sized green eyes overshadowed by long lashes, average shaped lips, an adequate nose, somewhat high cheek bones… I’d say I was a fairly cute human. Although my smile was not my best feature as I have issue with my missing left canine. Over the years, I learned to overlook the dent in my self-esteem because of the missing tooth. It was a dental surgery that had left its mark, but for my health it needed to happen. Practicality overruled my human desire to be drop-dead gorgeous. I remained in good health and active on a daily basis; it was good enough for me. I had curves as well as a voluptuous thickness to my frame. I had the hourglass figure with a sizeable bottom (a favorite feature in the past), while also blessed with a full bosom. The only feature that I tried desperately to hide from the world were my scars. I had scars all over my body from various things in my past. Some of them made from being a complete klutz and others made by… more violent means. And I hated having them.

But I had done a beautiful job of making myself up. For once, I was very proud of my efforts. Styling short hair was a pain but I managed soft waves that framed my face well. The cat-eye style eyeliner, with the combination of my red lips and peach colored cheeks almost made me look like a silent movie era actress. As time moved on, I found it more and more unnecessary to play with hair or makeup styles. 

Unnecessary since there wasn't anyone to show off to…or for, rather.

The sudden feeling of loneliness shooting through me went straight to my gut. "Take yourself out to dinner, treat yourself…" I mumbled, "Thanks, Moira. Why do I even listen to you?"   
If I wanted to be open with myself, she had been right. Three years in a relationship that broke me until I was nothing, along with a few other traumatizing events… doing these sorts of activities was a step towards a new journey of self-discovery. When I moved back to my hometown I was a fucking mess. Moira never failed to give me all of the reasons to keep walking in my life journey. I let out a sigh and smiled to myself. She was a beautiful person inside and out. The Cosmos was merciful in gracing me with her steadfast and loving friendship. No matter what had happened to me or her in our lives, we would always have each other's backs. We were only human. When things passed that didn't go well or one of us made a mistake we were real with each other. Especially when we didn't want to hear it. Because in the end, it was what we needed.

I drained the last of my drink and placed it on the table. The sound made me jump, as I set the glass down harder than I intended. I took a breath and looked around the restaurant, taking in the elegant scenery. Tables were crowded in a large room with just enough space for people to ease between them. A dance floor spread wide at the front of the room. It was a room, but I would have equated it more to a hall than anything due to the large size of the area and the height of the ceiling. The tablecloths were stark white against the red of the carpet. Beautiful, glittering chandeliers hung gracefully from the high ceilings. The floor to ceiling windows were covered by dark blue curtains while the white molding surrounding the windows revealed an almost framed starry night sky from outside. They looked like satin, but hung thick and heavy. The lights reflecting onto them from the chandeliers reminded me of dancing starlight.   
The murmur from the noise of the clinks of glasses and contact of silverware to plates or bowls was soothing. I observed the dance floor, to the north of the dining area, noting the string players and people dancing. The lower sounding strings kept the waltz-like beat underneath the staccato prancing of the higher strings. What I hadn't noticed before was the gliding harpsichord accompanying the melody.

I breathed deeply, drinking in the sweetness of the notes echoing throughout the room. Goosebumps rose over my skin and I managed to relax in my chair with my shoulders still held back and a gracefully tilted head, gazing downwards at the table.  
I wasn't a prude, but I had been brought up with social expectations and mannerisms practiced in this type of environment. Salad fork, entree fork, please and thank you, sit up straight, ankles crossed, head up, etc. I knew how to put on a face and act like a "proper lady" in high society, though I never belonged to high society in any sense of the word.  
And I loved music. When I was a child, I had been exposed to all of the arts of the world: music, dancing, painting, drawing and much more. My soul always felt a deep appreciation for these things. Feeling goosebumps or tingles spread through my body was a common reaction to every time I heard or saw a piece that reverberated throughout my soul. 

'Ever the empath,' I thought to myself. The tone of my thought was more snide and demeaning than anything. An afterthought brought sadness to me. Being an empath wasn't a bad thing. It was one of the many things I love about myself. Although, even for me, it could be overwhelming, feeling so much all at once if the environment felt too crowded or busy. I had to constantly remind myself that the negative tones passing through my thoughts were more or less due to being around… him. 

A self destructive habit I had desperately tried to break. He had clawed and chained himself so deeply within my mind that even my own thoughts betrayed me. Narcissistic fuck. I picked up my glass to drink, forgetting that I had already drained it.   
As I cursed myself silently, I noticed a brand new glass filled with whisky and soda to the left of the empty glass. I tilted my head to the right in question, trying to remember if I had indeed ordered another as I had been observing, outwardly and inwardly. 

"I noticed, darling, that your glass was empty and your tears were plenty. So I asked the waiter to bring you another of what you had ordered previously," said a voice. The voice was deep, similar to the string bass that accompanied the string players, but much more smooth than the strokes of the bow and richer than the wooden echo of the strings resounding. Although I could have sworn there was an undercurrent of ringing and perhaps … buzzing? It seemed similar to white noise from a snow screen covered television.  
However, the words had cut through the noise and straight into my chest. The intrusion on my private moment of melancholy was enough for anger to boil. I raised my head to the left of where I sat, prepared to make a sarcastic retort to see…  
Well…   
Possibly the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. ‘Objectively, of course...’ I thought quickly. He smiled down at me, causing my heart to flutter, the anger dispersed. Oh, indeed, what a dazzling smile. He knew it, too. Red flag number one.  
He looked at me questioningly as he had gracefully motioned to the empty chair across from me. I stared into his eyes, attempting a blank face. If there was anything I couldn't control well, it was my facial expressions. But I still tried. Nodding in approval, he glided directly to the chair. A flash of instinct clanged through me watching his unfaltering grace as he walked to the chair and sat down; it was practically perfect.   
He maintained eye contact with me as he sat down. My breath caught in my throat as I drank in the image.  
His stature relayed confidence and strong will. The way he held himself, standing or sitting, was similar to royalty. His tuxedo was freshly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. Black and white, but with a red bowtie and matching cumberbund. The buttons on his white shirt gleamed black, but the cuff links he donned seemed like glittering rubies. Average height, strong hands, muscular neck (of what I could see), pale skin…  
His face was one I wished I could sketch but even if I had tried, it would be an abomination compared to the true visage. An oval face framed by strong jawline and curved into a gentle chin surrounded by a groomed five-o-clock shadow. The shadow connected well with the mustache growing above his full lips. His nose was strong and large but not taking away from the planes of his face, framed with slightly raised, jovial cheeks: ones that would match a sense of humor. The gazing eyes were a sizeable brown-black with a soft touch of a downward tilt at the outer sides of the face. Thick lashes guarded his eyes as well as flat-shaped, voluminous eyebrows, dark to match the full head of short hair. The dark hair was parted with the majority of his hair being on the right side, combed and gel'd to immovable perfection. It framed his broad forehead quite nicely. There were signs of wrinkles between his brows, possibly caused by inner rumination. Gently carved smile lines were hardly noticeable with his face blank. But all of this seemed… empty. As if there were no feeling behind any of it. As if he himself were hollowed out but remained to function. The thought sent a shiver through my body, instincts to be terrified roaring at me. Incredibly beautiful… but taciturn and cold.   
I was so taken aback that I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands or face. But it became embarrassingly clear that I had simply been staring when the beautiful creature cleared his throat and woke me up from my trance.

We sat in silence for a moment, taking the sight of each other in, as if it were a game to see who could observe more and thereby make a more solid conclusion of the other. I took a fresh sip of the new beverage as I held eye contact.   
I thought to myself what the gods had in mind when creating this beautiful yet dangerous masterpiece. It was a small but noticeable change in his face as he smirked. A knowing habit of charm. He was very charming. So, what was he doing speaking to me?  
While observing him, a thought of worthlessness and self defeat passed through my mind. I felt my heart sink at the lack of self confidence and said quietly, "Thank you for my drink."

"...Sir." He tagged on. 

I sat up straight at the tone. Making eye contact while ensuring defiance in my voice at the horrid word, I seethed, "Sir."  
He responded with a curl of his lips, cold amusement dancing in his eyes.   
"Damien," he stated, bowing his head. The movement seemed stiff, quite at odds with the royal posture.   
"Damien." I forced a small greeting smile.   
Whether or not I was successful, I didn't know or care. With the introduction being an attack on my mental state, I suddenly began to think I made a mistake allowing him to sit.   
I made eye contact with him and I saw a shift in his face. Taking another drink, I felt a pit in my stomach that perhaps he could read my thoughts. The band began playing a popular Big Band song. In the back of my mind, I knew I loved the song, but I could never remember the title. A love song about two lovers who hadn't seen each other in a long time and were so overcome with emotions in seeing each other, they couldn't find proper words to speak.  
"It is rude to ignore the rule of proper introductions, angel…" Damien said in a low voice. The smoothness of his voice brought me back from being lost in the music playing.  
Anxiety clenched my gut as a voice in the back of my head began begging to not tell him my name. I was a superstitious person, and I believed absolutely that there was power in a name. Either having it or saying it. 'Words in their own existence have power,' I thought to myself. We sat in uncomfortable silence as I rolled over in my mind the decision whether to oblige him or continue ignoring his curiosity. All of my thoughts swept away from me like the pulling tide as I managed to speak, "Luna."

"Luna…" Damien purred, as if savouring something sweet. The sound was like naked skin being caressed with satin sheets. I felt a warm tingle spider crawl down my spine. Regret burned in my chest. That was a poor choice.  
I shook myself again, asking him, "So, Damien… why did you bring me a drink?"  
Damien chuckled, the sound itself deep and vibrating, but still… cold. I cocked my head and blinked at him, awaiting his answer.   
"I was in the middle of my business dinner, simply observing the hall when I noticed that you are the only person here without any company."   
The charm dripping from his words aside, I shot him a glare. A night to take myself out to a nice dinner, I assumed silently, and I am being judged for it. Just one night.  
He continued, "I thought to myself, 'How could such a beautiful woman be by herself in this hall, when every person should be lining up to dance and dine with her? Even if she is encapsulated in sadness.' "   
I couldn't help but let out a snort. 'Beautiful… sure. Whatever.' I thought.   
Rolling my eyes I took a rather large gulp of my drink. I could have sworn I saw a flash of red glare on my glass.   
I looked up, placing my glass on the table, to see Damien's straight face with a touch of anger- no, rage behind his eyes. Maybe not so empty after all…  
"So, why, pray tell, are you crying?" He asked coolly.  
It took every bit of control to ease my own sweltering rage and not throw my drink in his face, regardless of whether or not he had given it to me in kindness.   
"Why, pray tell," I mimicked, "is it any of YOUR godsdamned business?"  
Damien simply brushed off some nonexistent fleck of dirt off of his tuxedo, his face appearing bored.  
"I simply wanted to give you some company. My name isn't misery, but I figured perhaps if you had a 'god-crafted' face to look upon, you'd be at least a little happier," he responded. 

I glowered at him. Oh, I know what he is after. An ego boost from the easiest target in the room.  
Regardless, Damien seemed to be another narcissistic clown looking for another toy to play with. And I wasn't in the mood.  
"Perhaps," he muttered. I had almost missed it. I sent him a confused look, giving him another once over.   
"I- I'm sorry?" I stumbled over the words. My suspicion that he could read my thoughts was cushioned by fear in the pit of my stomach.   
I tried to shake off the feeling with another sip of my drink. It then dawned on me that there was a high possibility of my being intoxicated. A vivid imagination and intoxication were a terrible mix for me.  
I glanced over at Damien, who had a mask of patience planted on his perfect face, waiting for an answer.   
Accompanied with a sigh of frustration, I answered, "Because I am sad. When one is sad, they do tend to cry. Is it not so?"  
Damien gave a satisfied smile and stated, "Witty and clever. Two of my many favored qualities." His canines were much too sharp. That pit in my stomach started to open wider.   
"And the cause of your sadness?" He asked, genuinely curious. The feeling of having my personal life invaded by a stranger was discomforting; 'god-crafted' or no.

I said, "How about we start this conversation over?"   
He cocked his head in question. The movement shook me. The intent behind the movement was dangerous. I continued on, "Thank you sir for the drink. It was very kind of you. What can I do for you, in your honorable presence?"   
I admit, it was very petty of me to intone the sentence with slight sarcasm. The corner of his mouth dragged up, a movement that was positively wicked.   
"Why, my lady, I was simply looking in your direction and noticed that you were without company and without a dance partner!" Damien replied, a hint of excitement behind his words. He suddenly stood, and walked- no, strutted to my right side. Still seated, I merely watched his movements, rage riding through my veins. The audacity.  
As Damien stood so close to me, I stared up at him partly enraged at his forward words, partly hurt by my injured pride. As someone who was brought up to lean on her own independence, apparently it was still a sin in this wretched class to be alone in peace.  
Damien, to my surprise, simply held his hand out and asked, "My lady, would you care to join me for a dance?"


	2. Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna finds herself intrigued by two odd strangers but her instincts scream for her to run.

The thought of dancing with Damien almost made me sick. Almost. 

I pushed down the feelings of being repulsed by such a big ego and took his hand. 

"Only because I enjoy dancing. You had better be a good lead." I gave him what I thought to be a bored expression. I was halfway pretending I wasn't interested in being around him. The other half was consumed by hurt pride and my own self deprecation. How could someone so… there isn't a word for it. Beautiful seemed an unworthy term. 

But why me?

I knew the answer already. I was simply a target for flattery and swooning towards Damien. As he grabbed my hand, I noticed his touch was firm and gentle. Similar to someone holding a roughly cut piece of glass that was slipping from them, but didn't want to bleed as a cause from holding it. His hand was muscular but the skin was smooth. A working man? Perhaps he doesn't normally visit these types of environments either. 

My gut twisted. What if Damien is like me? One of the lower class, masquerading for a night, just to get away from the stress of life? Looking for entertainment? Or a distraction?

I was startled out of my deep thinking as I felt Damien's arm wrap around my lower back, his hand firm against the center. I hadn't realized that we had already reached the dance floor. I immediately began shifting my eyes over everyone but him, taking in the surroundings. My other hand was stretched outward, clasped gently in Damien's. 

As the music began, my focus snapped to dancing. It was a waltz. But not quite. Foxtrot, I supposed. It has been too long since I had participated in ballroom. Not since my last visit to my alma mater. The string players were taking a break and what played over the speakers was "Moonlight" by Ariana Grande. One of my favorites to listen to and sing along with. Damien stepped back and I stepped with him, beginning our waltz. I was making sure that we weren't too close together, but properly close, as we were strangers to each other. As we danced, it became apparent that Damien also knew how to dance. It was rare for me to find such a dance partner. As much as I enjoyed the occasional club dancing, I enjoyed ballroom dancing more. Something about it brought an intimacy of a different kind. Perhaps it simply tugged at my old-fashioned romantic heart.

"You are beautiful, you know." Damien whispered. His practical tone made the comment seem less meaningful; regardless, I felt myself blush.

As we continued swaying, I sometimes looked at Damien but kept my eyes on the other dancers. Damien’s gaze occasionally slid to me, but overall he faced over my left shoulder. He was an experienced dance partner. Everything he expressed through his movements, I read and followed. He released my waist and spun me outwards to guide me back in, passing the polite dance posture and right into one where my backside was flush with his front, my arms crossed in front of me and holding each of his hands. I swallowed hard, noticing that his chest felt firm and muscular underneath the tuxedo. Needless to say, I had to bring my attention back to dancing before I dug myself an early grave in the depths of perverse thoughts. 

Damien used his commanding hand to complete a slow, close spin and uncross my arms, allowing us to fall back into the common dance posture. 

At this particular moment, he made a point to hold me closer to him. I looked at him and found him staring at me. It was unnerving, but I couldn't separate whether the feeling was because of the discomfort of being in the spotlight of his attention or because his stare was intense. As I locked eyes with him, his eyes seem to show hunger and anticipation. I noticed then how close we actually were: I could feel his breath on my chin, and his face was mere centimetres from mine. The feel of his hard body against mine and the closeness was intoxicating. The smell of ashen wood mixed with some sort of citrus hit me. All the thoughts eddied from my head as I held his stare. 

I swallowed and whispered, "Are you enjoying yourself?" 

Damien's mouth twisted into a half smile as he said, "I am. But I am not satisfied." I looked away as I felt my cheeks heating. What the hell did he mean? He couldn’t seriously want- 

"And you, darling?"

That voice… it was so delectable to hear. I felt the depth of it ring out through his chest. Looking back to Damien, he seemed to be investigating my face, trying to read what was written on it. I nodded my head as words failed me. I couldn't say that I wasn't very much enjoying myself. But what person wouldn't enjoy dancing with him? Especially since he was so attractive, charming, and his scent was…

I unintentionally moved my face to meet his cheek, as if we could have been any closer than we were. I felt a flame light up in my core. I reeled my mind back. No, no, no. Just dancing. 

_ Isn’t this what you wanted? The affection, the physical touch… you are so lonely, aren’t you? _

I reigned my focus back to dancing, hardly needing to do so, logically, as Damien was expertly leading us across the dance floor. Damien's arm tightened around my waist and I could have sworn a low pleased growl rumbled from him. I closed my eyes, feeling the stubble scratch against my cheek. He began humming along to the song. My body relaxed with the vibrations within his chest. His arm wrapped further around my waist as his lips grazed my ear. A low hum of content slipped from me. I couldn't help myself. The situation was comforting. Perhaps this was the evening I needed; that my heart needed.

As the song came to a close, he spun me out once more and brought me back to where my backside was against his front, and dipped me, never breaking eye contact.

His face was so close to mine, it felt like we were sharing breath. 

Applause exploded in the hall.

I was about to snap my head to the crowd around us, but Damien whispered, "Don't. Keep eye contact with me." I swallowed hard, and obliged his command. He slowly pulled me up, spinning me out and bringing me back to the position we had started in dancing. 

I could feel the panic rising, the anxiety twisting my insides, the tears forming… the breathing…

"Luna."

I felt the vibration of his deep voice through him as I was still held to his body. But my mind was elsewhere, trying desperately to cling onto the side of the dark well of sanity, forcing myself to hold in the tears.

I felt a hand caress my cheek and I forced my eyes to focus on Damien. 

"Luna?" He asked, concern flashing across his features. I just stared as I continued to struggle with the battle happening in my head. Like a soft touch, Damien whispered, "Luna, take my hand and follow me. Keep your head up, and keep walking. Focus on the back of my head." 

The applause died down as we exited the dance floor. Each step felt like I was walking through mud, but I remained focused on the back of Damien's head. I felt my arms become heavy, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I struggled to breathe. I was drowning. The Darkness was closing in on me… it was coming back… no escape… drowning. My lungs felt like they were being tied down, every breath became more shallow. It took every control I had to focus solely on Damien’s head. 

_ Breathe, darling. In for four, hold for two, out for four. In for four… _

I breathed in for four.

_ Hold for two… _

One, two…

_ Out for four… _

One, two, three, four…

  
  


Damien led me outside, looking back occasionally to make sure I was doing my breathing exercises or that I was still walking. Once the cool autumn air hit me, I let out a large breath. Everything that had been squeezing my insides together loosened. Damien stopped walking as he noticed I had stilled, my hand still in his. My knees wobbled momentarily, causing me to bend forward slightly. Damien stepped closer to offer physical support to lean against. 

“Damn heels…” I mumbled.

A chuckle came from Damien and I quickly whipped my head towards him, almost coming into contact with his face. His face remained blank as if he hadn’t just chuckled at me. Chuckled. My blood began to boil. How could he think this was funny?

“You’re a real prick, you know that?” I snapped. Damien’s face fell into a disgruntled frown.

“You’re welcome, of course,” he managed to say. His voice had deepened in the response with underlying danger.

“For WHAT?! Putting me on show for everyone to watch while we… while w-” I trailed. The dance had become so intimate. The feeling of his hands on me had been divine, but in front of other people… it felt like my soul had been opened for the world to see.

“ 'While we' what, Luna?” Damien suddenly straightened and stepped towards me causing me to stumble backwards. Why couldn’t I have any personal space with this asshole? I brought myself into a tall posture, back straight, chin up, and I glared at him in silence. 

Damien stepped closer. I stood my ground, establishing that he could not, and would not, intimidate me. He moved to where his hands were placed behind his back, and lifted his head a little higher. I still glared at him, his gaze now peering down at me past his nose. Eyes taking me in, he glanced over my body, clearly taking note of my posture and facial expression. He was still uncomfortably close to me, but I simply crossed my arms and continued my anger-induced stare. He leaned a tad more forward.

“While we WHAT, Luna?” he bit quietly. I noted the underlying growl in the repeated question. I could feel his breath on my face again. I fought my body to remain still as a statue, unmoving. My face became heated, despite trying to maintain the reflecting icy stare Damien was giving me. 

He had made a spectacle of me.

He had dragged me to that stupid dance floor and danced with me like- whatever that was! And with everyone watching?! That wasn’t dancing that was something else! 

Something else that I didn’t want or need…

_ You’re so lonely, aren’t you? _

A flash of red and blue caught me off guard. Oh, no. I am DONE here. I huffed and began to turn on my heel as Damien reached out and grabbed my arm. This time, the touch was cold and felt like tendrils crawling up my arm. I looked at him and could see his black eyes turn red, and his body became outlined with red and blue as his pallour paled even more. No, not paled. Greyed.

There was a loud ringing within my head, the white noise was back… All of that had been him? Fear, surprisingly, was not what hit me first. My head began spinning. I shook my head as if to dissipate the ringing surrounding me. My instinct kicked in full throttle and I pulled my arm away hard, only to find that his cold grip had me captured like that of an iron chain.

“Damien, I’m warning you... Let. Go. Of. Me.” I spoke calmly despite everything in my body screaming to find a way to get away from him as quickly as possible. A voice drawled out of the darkness from behind me. I was so focused on making a plan of attack, that I almost didn’t catch the Irish lilt.

“Yeah, _ Damien _ … Let the little lass go.”

Damien's entire demeanor changed as the owner of the voice approached. His face fell into a face of pure boredom, yet his aura and grip increased in strength. 

The footsteps had seemed to echo a prowling move and stopped short behind me. Then, the fear hit me.

My whole back felt like it had been hit with a small shock of electricity. The feeling reminded me of when I forgot to add a dryer sheet and all of my clothes came out covered in static. I could hear the air crack and smell burning. 

Damien stared down whoever was standing behind me and I seized my opportunity. 

I sent a hard knee to Damien's genitals and bit hard on his captive hand. The voice behind me broke into laughter. The high pitched laughter cracked in my ears, almost disorienting me. He groaned and as soon as I felt his hand release my arm, I darted to the right. Lifting my dress and preparing to lose my heels, I slammed into something hard. Arms came up holding me from bouncing back. I began flailing trying to kick, punch, knee, or elbow anything I could come into contact with.

_ 'Please, just give me something! UGH!' _ I thought. But the arms wrapped around my torso and seemed to lock. The iron grip was similar to that of Damien's, but as my vision became less blurred, I noticed it was certainly not him.

The man holding me was a few inches taller than Damien. His chest was rock hard, muscular like Damien's but his build was lean. Damien's was more like a person who lifted weights each morning and each night. The shirt was cotton and black, overlayed with a leather jacket. 

"Well, this one certainly puts up a fight!"

I looked up to see the man smiling wickedly, flashing his straight teeth and canines. His different colored eyes danced with wild amusement. He was handsome, devilishly so. This man also had an oval shaped face with a softly pointed chin surrounded by a familiar mustache and five o'clock shadow. A slender nose with some cheekbone helped to sharpen his features. One of his thick eyebrows was raised in playful curiosity. An average-sized forehead was covered with bangs in an almost toxic green color. 

'Wait… how did he move so fast? How did he block me? Who the hell are these people?' I panicked inwardly.

I felt the empty space behind me suddenly become occupied. I tensed, trying to find a way to escape. I felt the tendrils slinking up my back, as electricity crackled the air in the front. 

"Hello,  _ Damien _ . Is that what you're going by nowadays, boyo?" The man at my front sneered. "You need ta come up with something more creative." His voice was not as deep as Damien's. It seemed tenor pitched with slight stutters. Little computerized giggles seemed to echo his words. 

"What are  _ you _ doing here?" Damien said coldly. 

"I heard ya were here and decided to pay a visit, since ya have been so… busy." I looked up to see him staring at me with dead eyes. For a moment, I thought that he shifted to green and back. Almost like an electronic glitch. 

I scowled up at him, determination returning to me. All of my instincts were roaring at me, clawing their way up to find a way to escape this situation. The man in front leaned down and sniffed my neck. He lifted his head with his eyes rolling back. I felt his drag through my hair and tangle in them. 

"She smells delicious." He purred, poison seeping into the words. Heat flared in my core, betraying my instinct to vomit. I was spun around to face Damien, the man behind me keeping his arms locked around me. I began to struggle against him, hoping to lift them and run. They squeezed tighter causing me to loose a breath and cough from the restriction of air. If this situation had a different intent, perhaps I would have reveled in it.

"Would you kindly let go of my dance partner? We were simply taking a breath of fresh air before continuing our …" Damien lifted my chin to look at my face while addressing the man behind me. "...evening."

Hunger spread across his face. His touch was so cold it almost burned but light. I loosed a growl at him. His hand didn't move from my chin. He just responded with a broad smile, his eyes burning red. 

"Come, come now darling…" he purred. Damien leaned in next my head, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. "Don't you want to finish what we started?" I inhaled sharply. My emotions became mixed with fear and desire. The feeling of being trapped was what kept me from becoming entranced by Damien's sensual voice and touch.

I threw my head to the side waiting to feel the sting of contact with Damien's head. Too slow. His hand came up and tangled in my hair, gripping it tightly. I cursed my just long enough hair. He used his grip to pull my head up to meet his face. Rage. Rage like I had never known flared in those dark red eyes. A smarter person would have submitted. 

Unfortunately, I never claimed to be smart. 

I spit into his face and bared my teeth at him. He smoothly let go of my hair and began shuffling in his chest pocket.

Laughter vibrated into my back. 

"Woooo we have ourselves a hellcat! Tell me, love, does it feel good to have gotten a shot at the King of the Void?" The man behind me laughed.

My head completely blanked as the words settled into me. Damien was wiping his face with the handkerchief he had pulled out. 

"Anti, I wasn't quite to that point in our newly blossomed relationship for that little bit of info to be announced," Damien seethed. 

"Well, we can still have a little fun with her, can't we? She's got so much to learn," Anti said, the glitchy giggle echoing in my ears. Anti leaned his face into mine, rocking it up and down my cheek.

"You always have to come in and stick your nose in everything, don't you?" Damien asked Anti. That voice, once a dream, was now a nightmare. 

"Of fuckin' course! It makes the game more thrilling," Anti chuckled.

Damien responded with a cold gaze. He cracked his neck left, then right and relaxed his shoulders. Whatever was going on between these two, I had become stuck in the middle and my instincts continued to scream at me to do something. The arms locking me in lifted swiftly as I heard Anti's voice in my ear whisper menacingly,

" _ RUN." _

Before I could move a muscle, a snap of fingers cleaved the air and I was left in blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, Reader! Thanks so much for swinging by and reading this story! This is actually the first story I decided to start writing when I had picked up the hobby again! My recent obsession have been the characters of Darkiplier and Antisepticeye (if you can't tell from my other works) and I hope that the personalities shine through!  
> This story is going to be more in depth, so it will be a slowwwwwww burn. The intent is for the reader to enjoy this series as they would a book. I try to create some originality out the story, but also pull from some other books I have been obsessed with lately (ACOTAR, cough, cough). 
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving a comment! I can't wait to hear your thoughts!  
> If you REALLY liked it, feel free to leave Kudos!
> 
> Love you all!


End file.
